


“Trifolium repens”

by ninemoons42



Category: Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Companionable Snark, Four-leaf Clover, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Sketches, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <span class="ljuser"></span><a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/"><b>cottoncandy_bingo</b></a>. Prompt: four-leaf clover. My card is <a href="http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/208216.html">here</a>.<br/>This is an out-of-order CCB fic for the amazing Sirona.</p>
    </blockquote>





	“Trifolium repens”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/gifts).



> Written for [](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**cottoncandy_bingo**](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). Prompt: four-leaf clover. My card is [here](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/208216.html).  
>  This is an out-of-order CCB fic for the amazing Sirona.

title: “Trifolium repens”  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)**ninemoons42**  
word count: approx. 2435  
fandom: The Avengers  
characters: Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Darcy Lewis, Bruce Banner, JARVIS, Steve Rogers. Mention of Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Phil Coulson, Bucky Barnes, Charles Xavier, and Erik Lehnsherr.  
rating: G  


  
1\. Thor

This whole thing starts with Thor, which really doesn’t surprise Clint at all. It seems to be something of a law of the universe – no, wait, what’s that term that Bruce uses: the _multiverse_ – that when someone drops the God of Thunder into a classroom full of children ridiculous things happen.

And not only to him at that. Clint wouldn’t have minded if he’d been left out of the blast radius – but no, that’s not how things work apparently, because even as Thor patiently submits to three or four girls and boys all trying to braid his hair at the same time Clint is being chased around the quad by the rest of the children and they are all laughing and calling “Hawkeye! Hawkeye! Caw caw!”

It’s _hell_.

By the time the children are called in for snacks and naps, Clint is torn right down the middle between wanting to just shoot the entire SHIELD PR team (and why did they even have one of those in the first place?) and crying with laughter at the disaster calling itself a hairstyle on Thor’s head.

“The children merely need more practice with braids and plaits and suchlike,” Thor declares once they’re back at Stark Tower, “and I have promised them that they may try again, when next I come to visit.”

“You big puppy,” Darcy says as she bounces onto one of the ottomans and starts to untangle his blonde hair. “Bet you want a big family. Talk to Jane about that first, all right?”

Thor submits calmly to her brush. “Of course; I take her wishes into proper consideration whenever I think about the future that we shall share.”

“Can I come along?” She doesn’t seem fazed by the bits of crayon and the cookie crumbs and all the other things that fall out of Thor’s hair with each pass; she just keeps going, patient and calm.

For his part, Clint is just glad he’s nowhere near that mess, or the two lunatics humming some kind of inane call-and-response tune. He’s just glad that his job often entails being away from everyone in here, actually. He’s not good with people, except as targets; and he doesn’t always get the idea of friends, because the ones he’s had he’s mostly lost.

He concentrates on his sandwich, instead. It’s a decent grilled cheese for once and he hasn’t had one of those for a while. One of the benefits of living on the Stark tab, at least – they always have proper food here and when no one’s in the mood to cook, which is a rare occurrence so long as they’re all in residence, there’s takeout.

Judging from the cheeses in this one it looks like Bruce did a number on the kitchen, again, and Clint thinks about bribing him for more.

Just as he’s getting up to wash his hands, though, Darcy lets out a happy, high-pitched sound and leaps to her feet. There is something small and green in her fingers, although it’s hard to tell what it really is with the way she’s dancing about.

“What is it?” Thor asks, so Clint doesn’t have to.

“Something cool,” she says. “Look, they left you a four-leaf clover! Wonder where those kids found it, it’s not like these are common at all, much less _here_....”

Despite himself Clint feels compelled to go over and look, and he very carefully approaches Darcy, making sure she can see him because he’s not actually asking to be hit with the taser that she carries on her person at all times, and says, “May I?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says. “Hold out your hands.”

“I’m not a child – ”

“You’ll do it because you don’t want to hurt this thing, and it’s been through the wars and back,” Darcy says with a completely straight face.

So Clint does as she says, and when he looks at the clover he thinks maybe she’s got a point. It looks like it’s about to disintegrate and at least one of the leaflets is hanging on by the barest thread of green.

After a moment Clint is aware of Thor getting to his feet and peering at the clover as well. Not surprising that he looks confused and interested at the same time. “You say that this is something ’cool’– please explain.”

Darcy, if anything, lights up even more. “They’re rare and they’re lucky. Supposedly. You know, I’m not supposed to believe in things like that, and I don’t not really. But thinking about luck is nice, and it’s a harmless thing so long as you don’t get overly obsessed with it. Right, Clint?”

Clint shrugs, and takes Darcy’s wrist so he can return the clover. “Something like that. See you later.”

He heads downstairs, to the shooting range, and even as he gets lost in the familiar motions of stringing his bow and shooting at his target a part of him is thinking of rooting through sparse patches of green in mud or in debris or in dust, hoping to find something rare and lucky, something he could keep for himself.

2\. Bruce

Clint goes to the labs a few days later when Bruce calls for him, and when he steps past the glass doors he sees that Bruce is examining something small and green and familiar – he’s actually nodding thoughtfully at the screen hanging just at eye level.

That surprises Clint – and then he wonders why he’s surprised, and he wonders what this has to do with him.

“Hello,” Bruce says as he turns around and takes his glasses off to polish them on his shirttails. “I gather I’ve you and Thor to thank for this particular experiment I’ve got in progress? Actually, the original question was from Darcy. She has a way of asking, I think. Can’t really say no. She said you brought her that.”

“Sort of,” Clint says, scratching the back of his head as he looks at the magnified image of the four-leaf clover. “What’d she ask for, a whole pot of the things?”

“Something like that,” Bruce says, chuckling quietly as he puts his glasses back on. “JARVIS and I are actually having fun with the genome, trying to isolate the gene sequences for the four-leaf mutation. We’re hardly the only ones trying, of course. It’s something people have been working on for a long time now.”

“It is a fascinating challenge,” JARVIS says from overhead. “Sir has given me leave to pursue this particular interest to its end; I suspect him of having a stake in the outcome, as well. However, Dr Banner and I have run into some difficulties. We are considering calling in expert help.”

“You’re asking for help?” Clint asks. “And here I thought you were geniuses, both of you.”

“We are both fairly well-read and I have access to many repositories of knowledge,” JARVIS says, “but all the same, knowledge, and the acquisition of the same, begin with an acknowledgment that one does not have all the answers in one’s possession. To get to _Eureka!_ , one must first cry, _I don’t know!_ ”

“That makes sense,” Clint says, after he thinks about it. “So who’re you calling in?”

Bruce smiles. “You know them, actually. I just sent an email to Xavier and Lehnsherr up in Westchester, and we’re waiting on a response.”

“All that for a pot of four-leaf clovers,” Clint says, and starts laughing.

“If we’re lucky, and we do something right, we’ll get you one of the test plants.”

That sobers Clint instantly; that puts him on the defensive. “Wasn’t really asking.”

“You’d be doing us a great service, Clint; we need a test subject, because we need to make sure the thing won’t eat Darcy or anyone who handles it.” But even as he says it Bruce looks kind.

“If it dies because I neglect it I’ll blame you,” Clint says.

“I rather think that neglect would not kill clovers if they can actually be found in this city,” JARVIS says, and that makes Bruce crack up, and this is a joke that Clint can share in – this isn’t a joke aimed _at_ him – and it helps.

It helps a lot, actually.

3\. Steve

Three weeks later, Clint wakes up from a nap in the rec room when Steve comes in. “Hey,” Clint says, and attempts to rub some of the grit out of his eyes.

“Hello,” Steve says. “Did I wake you up?”

“’S not a problem,” Clint says around a massive yawn. “Knew it was you. I thought it would be a good time to wake up.”

“I see,” Steve says, and points to the pizza boxes on one of the tables. “Hungry? There should still be something left.”

“Later. Thanks.” He gets up and stretches, does a couple of lunges.

“Quiet night,” Steve says just as Clint is about to step out the door. “We don’t get a lot of those.”

“Yeah. I should leave you to yours?”

“Stay, if you like,” Steve says, and Clint turns around just in time to see him settle down at the table with the checkers set. He notes Steve’s sketchpad and the small zippered case that he knows is full of pencils and graphite stubs and a couple of beaten-up erasers, and he also notes the terracotta pot sitting next to the heap of red gamepieces.

For a moment Clint thinks of leaving anyway – and then he goes and pulls up a chair, close enough for him to get the general idea of Steve’s movements and far enough that he won’t actually be able to see anything on the sketchpad.

Steve pulls out a penknife and starts in on sharpening his pencils – and then he gestures at the pot, and then at Clint. “Bruce told me I wasn’t to thank you for – for this.”

Clint blinks. “Yeah, because it wasn’t me who brought the damn thing back? Thor’s fault, as usual. When did it become mine?”

“I don’t really think we’re talking about whose fault it is,” Steve says, gently. He’s looking down at his paper; he’s working the pencil in short, steady strokes. “I thought we were talking about your interest in these things. We would probably have been friends, if we’d known each other back then.”

Clint sighs, and scrubs his hands over his face. “This is about the clovers?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look up; doesn’t pin Clint down with that gaze that inspires honesty, even the painful kind.

Clint thinks for a moment, and gives in. “What the hell. All right. I’ll bite. Did you find any, when you were younger? Because I looked and looked. The circus traveled all over the place and I was with the circus for _years_. Never found one. Not one.”

“I found just one, and I couldn’t even say I’d found it myself,” Steve says. “Like almost everything else that happened to me when I was a kid. It was a gift. A gift from a friend.”

“Must have been nice to have a friend like that.”

“It was, and it still is,” Steve says.

When Clint smiles he is only a little envious. “Friends are nice where you can have them.”

Steve actually puts his pencil down, and a slow, amused smile steals over his face. “If you’re going to tell me that Natasha and Agent Coulson aren’t your friends – if you’re going to tell me that we’re not your friends – you and I are going to have _words_.” He takes a deep breath. “I believe that’s how that particular idiom goes; between Pepper and Tony, I must have heard it a million times, in a million variations.”

Clint goes still for a moment – until he registers that Steve is taking something out of his sketchpad, is holding that something out to him. “What,” he says.

“For you,” Steve says, unnecessarily.

Clint takes the sketch, and – it’s one of _him_ , from one of the skirmishes soon after they’d settled in at Stark Tower. The Clint in pencils and chalk has an arrow nocked and ready to let fly at whatever it is he’s aiming for. Arms and shoulders taut with concentration. There is a hint of a frown on the face in the sketch – the detail work is surprising, but not really, given that this is Steve.

“A gift from a friend,” Steve says, again. “Maybe it’s not exactly a gift on behalf of the rest of us. I think Bruce said that that gift would be the actual plant?” He smiles again, and this one is warm and welcoming and also a little sheepish. “He’s making it to your specifications, because you said it had to be something you basically couldn’t kill through neglect – I think that _is_ what he said, although you should probably ask him and Tony and JARVIS about that. Thor and Darcy are going to wrap it up or put a ribbon on it or something. Natasha told us about your birthday. Next week, right?”

“Friends,” Clint says, slowly. “You and the others. And four-leaf clovers to sweeten the deal?”

Steve laughs. “Maybe?”

“You’re all nuts.”

“Yes, and?”

Clint folds his hands together over the sketch. “It can’t be that easy.”

Steve stops laughing. “No, it won’t be. It was never supposed to be easy. But if you really want to think about it like that, maybe the luck will help?” And he gestures at the pot on the table.

Clint looks down at his feet and looks out the window at the overcast New York City sky. He looks at Steve, and finally, looks at the plant: lucky charms, something he’s been looking for, and something that’s now being offered to him – something for him.

“Friends,” he says again. He thinks about it for a moment. “Friends. Yeah. Okay. Okay.” He smiles, and looks at Steve, who is immediately grinning back. “There better really be a plant.”

Steve laughs.

Clint smiles, and reaches out to touch one of the four-leaf clovers.  



End file.
